


Of vent dwelling and Saturday afternoons

by Argentum_Industires



Series: Explosives would be easier [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, James Rogers is a menace, Uncle Clint Barton, Uncle James Barnes, Vent dwelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-29 21:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14481201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argentum_Industires/pseuds/Argentum_Industires
Summary: Fact one: James Rogers is a toddler with super serum in his veins.Fact two: Clint Barton likes to teach anyone he can how to use vents.Natasha Romanoff has to deal with both.





	Of vent dwelling and Saturday afternoons

**Author's Note:**

> Because Infinity War is cruel and we should all be able to run away from it.

She was going to kill Clint.

With every inch that she dragged herself along the dark, narrow air vent, the thought compounded in her mind. She knew exactly how to do it too. All it would take was one tweak to an explosive arrow and…

“Have you found him?” came Steve’s voice, slightly muffled through the metal.

“No.” she answered through ground teeth, as she pulled herself forward another few inches, the tip of her right foot slamming against the side of the vent awkwardly. She bit back a curse, trying to keep in mind that there was an audience.

“Okay… well, keep at it!” Steve replied, frustrated amusement coming through in his tone. She could almost picture him, looking up at the ceiling, hands on his hips, brow raised and soft eyes. Those damn eyes. They had talked her into this situation. Steve and his puppy dog eyes and his too-broad-to-fit-in-the-vent shoulders.

It had started like a normal afternoon in their house. Bucky, Laura and Clint had been over for a quiet afternoon, the five of them talking about everything from their assignments to baseball results (Steve talked about baseball, the rest of them listened) while James played with the Barton sisters, baby Nathaniel still relegated to his father’s arms. They had been having a wonderful, relaxed time, until Lila had come running around the corner in a panic.

“He’s gone.”

Cue fifteen minutes of three avengers, a super soldier and a super mother turning the house inside out in search of the toddler, each simultaneously trying to coordinate and cover as much ground as possible. Bucky in particular seemed to have a method, checking corners none of them would have thought about. She’d have to ask him about that later.

It was the echoing coo of delight that tipped them off, seemingly drifting through from the ceiling. Four pairs of eyes swivelled accusingly towards Clint, who had the decency to look at least a little scolded. Laura gave a long suffering sigh.

“I had him for a few hours back at the base, and he was scurrying everywhere…” Clint started.

“So naturally you taught him how to run loose in the vents?” Steve questioned.

It took another five minutes to form a plan of attack. Clint’s kids initially volunteered to go in after James, because of course Clint had raised vent dwelling kids with a strong sense of responsibility, but the idea of sending in more children didn’t sit well with any of them. Looking at the tightness of the metal tunnel, the men all gave her a soft, pitiful look.

Which was how she, Natasha Romanoff, found herself spending what was supposed to be a nice, relaxing afternoon crawling in the airways of her house in search of her SHIELD vent-trained, super-serum inheriting son while the men responsible stood guard at all possible exits, ready to catch him in case he tumbled out. Bucky had the unenviable task of standing twenty feet beneath the grill that led to the garden. He’d looked like they’d asked him to defuse a warhead.

Twisting around a sharp corner, she was finally, finally rewarded with the sight of her son, sitting comfortably at the intersection, looking positively angelic and not like he had caused absolute pandemonium through his escapades. Gotten that from his father, he had. A further series of uncomfortable twists and turns, and both of them tumbled out straight into the arms of one waiting Steve.

Rogers men all had the same damn expression.

++++

Natasha woke up Sunday morning to the sound of drilling. She dragged herself slowly out of bed, padding downstairs and into the kitchen.

There she found James gurgling happily in his high chair, reaching out with his hands as she entered the room. Steve stood, still in his pyjamas, a tool belt slung over his hips and a drill in his hand as he drilled new bolts into the kitchen vent. He turned at her approach, soft eyes and warm smile.

Maybe Clint could live.

 

 


End file.
